


Thinking Back

by butimnotdeadyet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Sort of? - Freeform, lets go with that, sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: Leonard thinks back on an event that changed his life before he even knew what his life would become.





	Thinking Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna feel a little off-the-wall because it stemmed from a two-year-old AU idea that never came to term ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Do you ever wish that you hadn’t met me when you did?” Her feet were tucked slightly between the cushions of the overstuffed couch, following the indent that had been left behind by countless similar maneuvers, and she sat with her back against the arm in a way that only she would ever find comfortable. There was a soft, continuing symphony of noises coming from the kitchen behind them, because some people who won’t be named, no matter how skilled, never really learned how to make a  _ quick _ batch of eggs.

 

“My life probably would have been easier. . .” he drawled out first, making sure to watch as an annoyed scowl set into her features before continuing, “but, no. If we hadn’t met back then, I don’t think any of this would have happened.” He waved a hand around him, even as he scolded himself internally. She would have known what he meant without the flourish that pulled at early-morning tightness that he had yet to banish from his joints. She always did. 

 

But her eyes still widen a little, as if she hadn’t expected his response. 

 

“That’s not true. It would have just taken a little longer -- you were already on the path that led you here, or at least that’s what  _ the Flash  _ says.” He smiled at the way she hushed the words, with a dose of smugness as if it hadn’t been years since he had last faced the man as an enemy. 

 

And maybe she was right. But they would never know, not for sure. 

 

The sounds in the kitchen continued, though if he had to guess, the operator was attempting to eavesdrop. Too bad, as he was proud to say that neither he nor his couchmate would ever be accused of being easy marks. 

But any close listener could probably make out the sounds of continued snoring from a certain someone in a room down the hall that was supposed to have been ready by now. 

 

“Maybe, but had I not met you, seen the possibility, I might have been just as likely to go back to what I knew, what I could predict instead of . . .”

 

“-leaping forward into the unknown?” She finished for him, using the phrase that she claims was coined by her mother, yet he had never heard the woman utter them. “And you think  _ I _ prevented the backswing, just the unpredictable circumstances of us meeting when we never should have?”

 

The doubt in her voice was palpable. He knew that she had no way of knowing just how much their early time together changed him, but the idea of any aspect of the life he now lived happening without her was nearly laughable. 

 

“From almost _ that moment _ \- with the threat of total annihilation looming over all of our heads - I  _ felt _ that you meant something. According to Mick, it was written all over my face.” He’s sure it was priceless, but there had been no documentation of the event. Which was good, because he could imagine quite a few people that, even back then, would have gone to impressive lengths to find a chink in his armor. 

 

“You did seem pretty taken aback; not used to being surprised anymore, I guess?” 

 

“To say the least.” He had thought he had seen it all then, that nothing could really knock him off balance. Again, laughable; even more so if the purveyor of the short chortle from the kitchen was accounted for. “And there you were, speaking as if you knew a million things that I couldn't fathom and seeing right through my glamour of disinterested crook.” He sighed remembering when he had first seen a glimmer of  _ something  _ her eyes, like she was about to tear down his entire understanding if the universe brick-by-brick and was very aware of the fact. Then again, she probably was.  

 

“Oh, it was nothing like that! You practically scoffed at the idea that what we were doing would be worthwhile, purposeful.” She smiled that big smile that made her eyes pinch up and her nose curl just a little and leaned to set to mug that she had been drinking from down on the coffee table that he was actively repurposing as an ottoman for his slippered feet. 

 

“Perhaps. But only on the outside.” Now she scoffed, grin not fully replaced by the intensity of the eye roll she gave him, but it was a near thing. A small part of him wanted to berate her for the dismissal. “I’m serious, you had me - not to be a cliche, but -  _ wrapped around your little finger  _ before I even realized what was happening. You just looked up with that Devil-may-care-but-I-sure-as-Hell-don’t look that my sister had honed, but you perfected, and I was ready to revert to the feudal system and swear fealty.”

 

“Sure you did, that’s why you bared your teeth and told me to get on board or pay the price. . .” He casts his eyes down at the memory -- not his finest hour. In fact, it probably stands, to this day, amongst the top three of his greatest missteps. But she, as always, was having none of his pity and blame and punctuated the thought by poking at his thigh with a temporarily unearth toe. “Lighten up, we were new to each other then. And no harm, no foul, Mr. Sentimental.”

 

“Yes, because it was a gleaming example of a very healthy, budding relationship.” It was a toothless endeavor, attempting to get her to see him anything but her favorite person, he knew. And any more talk of it would just lead to her pointing to the now-white hair on his head and make claims about how age has changed him.

 

“Maybe not a high point, but its really not that bad for a low one, all thing considered.” To what exactly she was  _ considering, _ he could only hypothesize, but the meaning was clear. They were very, very far from as bad off as they could have been. When he offered no descent, she continued while moving to stand up.

“What did you think? When I said what I said, back then.”

 

Quiet, in the kitchen.

 

He smirked, and caught a near-perfect mirror of the expression on her lips in turn.

“A challenge. Or a bluff. Two things that as you know I greatly enjoying dismantling.”

 

“Too bad you didn’t get the chance.” She sounded anything but regretful. With a few quick steps around the back of the couch to grab a jacket off the rack, shove feet into boots, and peck a quick kiss to his cheek in passing, to which he replied with a squeeze of the hand that landed briefly on his shoulder, she was out the door, ready to face whatever new antagonist promise to make themselves know that day.

 

He chuckled to himself when he heard the engine of her bike turnover and growl to life - an ostentatious gift from her mother, but fitting for the legacy that they all joked she had to uphold - and the reactionary swear words sounding from upstairs as the wake up call was received loud and clear by the safehouses until-recently-sleeping occupant.

 

The man on the couch counted eighty-five seconds off in his head before the second familiar form came barreling through the living room and burst out the front with shouts of thanks,  _ I-love-you _ s, and well-wishes over his shoulder and a bowl of scramble nestled in the bend of his arm and a gear bag in hand.

 

“I think I actually prefer the way it ended up, believe it or not,” he said mostly to himself as he felt the cushion beside dip once more. He didn’t have to look back to accept the plate offered to him, or even think before passing over his coffee for a taste. 

She settled in almost an identical nature to the daughter that had just left, though her back rested against his side, and she  _ hummed _ in agreement as she let her head fall back against his shoulder.

 

They would talk later about when to head back to their own house across town, or maybe to the ship, leaving their now adult children to themselves again; or reflect on how the previous night acted as not only their twenty-fifth anniversary but also as nearly three decades since the husband had happened across their daughter in her own time and not known how to believe any of the then-inconceivable things she told him; or even broach the topic again of how age and time travel and resurrections and wellsprings had affected them both so strangely, with hair graying but wrinkles’ slowed procession.

 

But for now they would just sit and watch the sunrise together. 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a high likelihood that you've finished this and have no clue what happened. Some of that is intentional; a greater portion may not be because I wrote this in one sitting and think that it only followed about a third of my original idea . . .
> 
> Many thanks,  
> Gin


End file.
